


Sometimes in my dream, I'm still a hero.

by Bibli



Category: Jessica Jones (Marvel), Original Work
Genre: Gen, Work In Progress, inspired by jessica jones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11889882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibli/pseuds/Bibli
Summary: Samantha Bridges is not a detective.





	Sometimes in my dream, I'm still a hero.

**Author's Note:**

> This is still a draft... but I got this earworm idea of a story fragment today, and it's inspiring me to commit fic for the first time in decades.
> 
> So, here goes.

I'm standing by the wall next to a helium balloon arrangement with a planter-pot base. Franken-décor. Why not stick to one or the other?

I navigate the crowds to the tall counter and swap my empty glass for another vodka-lime. Damn heels are uncomfortable.

At the bar, overhear agitated guy looking for someone – he moves on. I return to my potted balloon topiary.

Recognize anyone? Sip vodka-lime, scan the dark noisy room . The tall guy. From algorithms lecture and number theory, still has a nice smile. What was his name? Anyhow, who else. Mini won’t be here – she graduated a year ahead. A few more sips drains the glass already.

Ah, the sweaty loser is making a pass through this area – he pushes up against the taller … Cal’s shoulder. Right, his name was Cal. Varsity ski team and field lacrosse.

I chew on my ice and consider noticing more details about both Cal and Sweaty Loser. Wonder what Cal’s been up to?

This is boring, time to go. Walking towards exit, I hear a male voice raising to shout. “You agreed!” something-something secret meet-up to deliver the maguffin. Cal’s voice “Look, buddy, I’m not your guy” – seems like he still finds most things amusing. Another shout, glass crashes.

OK, less boring. Sweaty Loser storms out past me and I drift back over in Cal’s direction. A pair of older investigator types – not dressed for a party, they’re working - roll up to him before I get there. I recognize their look from being on the receiving end over the years – they have that intent gleam like they’re about to peel new evidence out of Cal.

I dock myself next to the balloon tree. The female investigator shows Cal a badge then slides it back into her jacket. The three of them walk out to the hotel lobby, so much brighter out here. She hands Cal a card and the two lock-step out to the parking lot.

“Hey, that was strange.” I realize I’ve walked up next to Cal and that’s my smooth conversation opener. What the hell, Samantha? “Samantha Bridges, six-three like you, right?” Handshake – his hand is warm.

“Uh, yeah, Cal Northrup.”

Freckles and blue eyes. I tell myself I hadn’t remembered. And oops, still holding his hand. I let go and look down into my tumbler of ice and drowned lime. I gesture at the hotel exit. “Friends of yours?”

No, they’re trying to track down that guy, want Cal to meet him later. Somehow I agree to show up separately and keep an eye on via a video call. I guess that’s what old classmates would do for each other right?


End file.
